Revenge
by Red Blaze 16
Summary: "As I said, Grayson, we have unfinished business," said Deathstroke. Sequel to Personal. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel to Personal. This story will make more sense if you read that first. Since Season 3 (YEAH!) doesn't air – in the US – until end of January 2017, it won't have a role in this story. It's my understanding that Season 3 is supposed to start 6 months after Endgame.**_

Revenge

By Red Blaze 16

Prologue:

Nightwing stood near the entrance. Young Justice had just been given the privilege of operating out of Watchtower. Mount Justice was gone. Of course, the Justice League had assured the team that they were in Watchtower because they had earned it, not because the team was without a place to call home.

Aqualad was assigning the different members to the different teams and giving each one of those squads a different mission. Alpha team would be Superboy, Miss M, and Beast Boy. Tigress, Kid Flash, Bumblebee, and Guardian would make up Beta. Gamma was Blue Beetle, Lagoon Boy, Robin, Static, and Wonder Girl. Of course, it wasn't the original Robin, since he was standing away from the group, wearing a different costume and going by a new name.

And it wasn't the original Kid Flash. Wally had...died two weeks earlier. It still tightened something in the dark haired hero's throat to hear that name and not see Wally, his best friend. His best friend who had died a hero and saved the world.

"Business as usual," said Nightwing, before he turned and walked away.

Nightwing had already spoken with Aqualad. He needed to take a leave of absence from the team. Wally's death had hit him hard. Actually, he was surprised that Artemis stayed on the team, though with a new name. The blonde haired green costumed archer was now wearing an orange and black costume and went by the name of Tigress. Dick wasn't totally sure of her reasons for wanting to stay, but he hoped it provided her the comfort she needed. Dick just wasn't ready to return to Young Justice. He knew that Barbara was ready to step in as Batgirl, if Aqualad needed additional help from the Bat Family.

While Aqualad continue to give the needed information to the various squads, Nightwing left the Watchtower and returned to his apartment in Bludhaven. On the rooftop of his apartment building, he changed his clothes. The costume was put into a dark gray gym bag. Dick picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Now the 19 year old was wearing a pair of faded light blue jeans and a short sleeved black t-shirt. Where he had been wearing his boots before, now he had a pair of sneakers on his feet.

Slowly, he climbed down the metal fire escape stairs, until he reached a window that gave him access to his apartment. He tapped the window on the edge, to dislodge the lock he had set when he left earlier to go to Watchtower, than he quietly opened the window. He slipped through the opening than turned and closed the window.

Dick turned and looked at his apartment. It was small and usually messy. Dick rarely had time to clean it. Alfred had offered more than once to come over at least weekly to clean the apartment, but Dick kind of liked it messy. It was a one bedroom apartment. The kitchen and living room shared one room, with different flooring to divide the large room into two areas. There were only three doors off the main room. One door was the entrance to the apartment. One led to the bedroom. The last door led to the bathroom.

Dick made his way across the room, walking between the coffee table and entertainment center, toward his bedroom. He needed to put away his gym bag that contained his costume. Of course, now that he didn't living in Gotham, he didn't have a Batcave to store his stuff. He had a loose floor board in the closet where he usually stored all his hero belongs.

Dick had just place a hand on the door knob to his bedroom when movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned and dropped his gym bag, as he felt something sharp hit him in the neck. Reaching up, he pulled the object from his skin. He glanced into his hand and saw a small dart.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Turning toward the voice, Dick's eye sight started to blur. Standing in the shadows of the bathroom door, Dick could make out the figure of a man. Though the drug that had been on the dart was already working fast in Dick's system, the young man recognized the figure standing before him.

"Deathstroke."

The killer stepped away from the bathroom door and into the light. Dressed mostly in black, Deathstroke wore his orange and black mask. His sword was sheathed on his back.

"We have unfinished business," said Deathstroke, as he drew back his arm. "I never got my answer."

Attempting to dodge, Dick tried to move to avoid the blow, but the drugs slowed his system. Instead of the punch hitting him in the chest, Deathstroke caught Dick's right shoulder and spun the younger man around. Losing his balance, Dick fell backwards and landed hard on the coffee table. Not meant to take the weight, the table broke. Dick's hand relaxed and the dart rolled away and under the couch.

Deathstroke walked over to the young man. With his left hand, he reached down and grabbed Dick by the shirt. Drawing back his right fist, he punched Dick in the face. Once. Twice. On the third blow, Dick's eyes closed.

"As I said, Grayson, we have unfinished business," said Deathstroke, as he stood back up. Slinging the younger man over his shoulder, Deathstroke left the apartment.

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will not be as fast at posting updates of this story as I was with Personal. This is still a busy time of year for me – crafter – and I will post as often as I can.**_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice...**_

Chapter 1:

His head hurt. Of course, Dick wasn't sure whether his head was pounding because Deathstroke had punched him, repeatedly, in the face, or because of whatever drug the killer had used on Dick. Then again, did it matter what had caused the pain? Either way, Dick knew that his head wasn't going to be any happier when he opened his eyes to look around.

And the hero was right. Just as he opened his eyes to look around, the pounding in his head was joined by a dull throb right behind the eyes. But Dick was able to look around his new environment. The room wasn't dark, but there wasn't a lot of light either. It was a mostly empty, at least what the hero could see of it, since he was chained in the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling.

His arms were stretched above his head and Dick could feel the chains that were wrapped around his wrists. He glanced up and could see that the chains were wrapped around a beam near the ceiling. The hero could also feel chains wrapped around his ankles. Though he looked down, he couldn't see if his feet were just chained or whether they were chained to the floor. He attempted to swing his legs, but found that he could only move them a foot or so.

 _Chained to the floor and ceiling,_ thought Dick, so he looked around the room to examine it for clues.

There weren't any windows in the room, so Dick couldn't tell how much time had passed. Was it still the same night? Or had Dick been unconscious for hours and it was morning? From the feel in his shoulders, he knew he hadn't been hanging long, but that didn't give Dick any kind of an estimate on how much time has passed.

"Awake?"

While Dick could hear the killer's voice, and it didn't sound like it had been piped into the room via a microphone and sound system, the hero assumed Deathstroke was behind him. "Yeah."

"Good," came the reply.

Dick could hear the sound of foot steps, not loudly, so Deathstroke wasn't making any attempts to hide. A moment later, the killer was standing in front of the chained hero. Deathstroke's face was bare, the mask had been removed, though he worn the rest of his costume. The sword was still strapped to Deathstroke's back. For a moment, neither man said anything.

A few years ago, Deathstroke had approached Dick, then as Robin, to become his apprentice. Instead of giving him an answer, he worked with the Justice League and Young Justice to capture the killer. Then, events with the Light took precedence and Dick forgot about Deathstroke, but the killer hadn't forgotten him.

"Men would have killed for the opportunity I offered you," said the white haired man. His hair was still long and pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed.

"I don't kill," replied the dark haired hero.

"If you hadn't led me into a trap, what would have your answer been?" said the killer. His voice was calm. The tone of voice was casual, like Deathstroke was truly interested in Dick's answer.

"I already gave you my answer," replied Dick, referring to when Deathstroke made his original offer at the docks and told Dick to think about it. "I wasn't interested then and I'm not interested now."

"Now?" asked Deathstroke. Surprised showed on the older man's face.

"Isn't what this is all about?" demanded Dick. "Turning me into your apprentice. A killer."

"You misunderstand me, boy," said Deathstroke. A small smirked appeared on the older man's face. "You had your opportunity. Past tense."

"Then what is this all about?" demanded the dark haired hero.

"Revenge," said the killer.

Moving forward quickly, he grabbed Dick by the front of his black t-shirt and jerked the younger man forward. Dick could feel the pressure it put on his shoulders. Too much force, and Deathstroke could dislocate one or both shoulders.

"If you had said no, when I first offered," said the killer, his voice soft and gentle, "I would have killed you quickly."

Dick could feel something cool and metallic press against his skin, where his shirt had pulled out from his jeans and his stomach was showing. It didn't feel like a blade, but Dick knew it wasn't something that would be good for him.

"But now, you will suffer before I finally kill you," said the killer.

Deathstroke pressed the button and the taser that was pressed against Dick's abdomen activated. Clenching his jaw, Dick refused to yell as his body's nerves were disrupted by the electrical charge from the device the killer held. A moment later, the device was turned off and Deathstroke stepped away. Breathing hard, Dick waited for his body adjust.

"I am not one to prolong death," said Deathstroke, as he looked at the taser in his hand. "But for you, I am making an exception. How long will you survive, Richard? How much pain and blood will it take before you break?"

Without another word, Deathstroke walked passed Dick and left the room.

…...

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to provide a warning to readers, this story will be far more violent than the previous one. Also, I tend to write short chapters, though this is short even for me. Till next time – and don't forget to write a review! Thanks!**_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Robin glanced at the computer. He had spent hours in the front of the computer, checking over evidence. Gamma team was responsible for trying to find Vandal Savage. The current lead he was working on appeared to be going nowhere, which felt like an on-going trend since he had been assigned the mission almost two days ago.

While he had no problem with the mission, he knew he was off his game. The team just wasn't the same without Nightwing. Even though his older, adopted brother had only been gone for two days, it felt like it had been longer. He wished Nightwing hadn't taken time off, though he understood why Dick needed the time. When he thought about what he'd be going through if it had been Cassie or Dick who had died, he just didn't know. Though Wally's death wasn't the first one to affect the team, it was the first death that had happened when Tim was on the team. With Wally's death, that made three members who had died.

Tim had never met Tula, who had gone by the codename of Aquagirl, but he did remember Jason, though not as a team member. Jason had been Robin after Dick, but before Tim. Like Aquagirl, he had died saving the world. Bruce had just adopted Tim a few months before Jason had been killed. So, while Tim hadn't known Jason as a team mate, he had known the older boy as a brother.

After Jason's death, Bruce, Dick, and he had made an effort to set one night aside where they would all eat together. It didn't mean that Batman, Nightwing, and Robin didn't go out that night. It just meant that, for an hour or two, they would sit down and eat a meal as a family. Wednesday was that night, which meant, in a few more hours, he'd be eating and talking with Dick. The teenager was looking forward to seeing his older brother.

"How's it going?"

Robin turned and glanced behind him. Standing in the doorway was Tigress. The older teammate was wearing most of her black and orange suit, though she wasn't wearing her mask. She walked across the room and stopped behind the chair that Robin was sitting in.

"Lots of false leads and no real evidence on where Savage is," replied the younger hero, as he glanced up toward Tigress. "How's your mission going?"

"Time consuming," replied the blonde. Tigress was a part of Beta team and was looking for evidence that LexCorp was trying to bring out the Reach's drink under a different name.

She looked at the screen over his shoulder, but most of the details on the screen made no sense to her. Of course, she wasn't really interested in the mission the teenager was working on. She had come into the room to speak to Robin, but not about his mission.

Almost like the younger teen knew what she wanted, he turned off the screen. In the blacked out screen, he raised his face and looked at Tigress' reflection. She assume he made eye contact, though she wasn't sure, since he was wearing his mask.

 _What is it with the Bat Family always wearing their masks?_ thought Artemis.

"What is it, Artemis?" asked Robin, before he turned the chair and stood up. "You're not here to ask me about the mission."

She backed up when the younger boy turned the chair and sighed. "How's Dick?"

Robin's brows went up. He had expected that she wanted to ask him something, but he hadn't expected the question to involve his older brother.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him since he walked out of Watchtower," said the blonde.

"That's usually what it means when someone takes a leave of absence," replied Robin, than winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out the way it did."

"I've heard more sarcastic replies," said Artemis, with a shrug of her shoulders.

"We usually have dinner together on Wednesdays," replied the dark haired teen. "So, I will see him tonight."

Artemis nodded and turned away.

"Did you need me to let him know something?" asked Robin to blonde's back.

"Just tell him, we need to go out some time for a snack," replied Artemis, as she glanced over her shoulder toward the teenager. "Maybe french fries?"

…...

Dick opened his eyes. The door had opened and shut behind him. He heard someone walking across the room and he waited for the killer to step in front of him. When the footsteps stopped directly behind him, he wondered what Deathstroke was going to do now. He had been hanging for hours and his shoulders, arms, and wrists ached. So, while the headache was gone, the pain wasn't. But he knew that was the least of his problems.

"Someone will figure out I am missing," said Dick, after a moment or two of silence.

"West's memorial wasn't that long ago," replied the killer. "Some might think you had taken...a leave of absence to deal with the grief."

Dick said nothing. _Did he know that I've taken a leave or is he guessing?_ thought the dark haired hero. _And if he does know, then how?_

"But it doesn't matter," continued Deathstroke. "Even if someone goes to your apartment, all they will discover is that you have terrible housekeeping skills. But, I'm sure your friends already knew that."

 _Except the broken coffee table,_ thought Dick. He did remember falling on the table and it breaking under his weight.

"And I removed the table that you fell on," said Deathstroke. The hero could almost hear the smile in the killer's voice. "Even with your messy apartment, a broken table would give too much away."

Without warning, Deathstroke punched Dick in the back. The force made the younger man swing forward, only for the chains to jerked him back. Just as Dick swung back, Deathstroke punched him in the back again. The hero swung forward, again, only for the chains to stop him again. While his arms and shoulders had ached before, just from hanging, now they hurt, as did his back. But throughout the whole time, Dick didn't make a noise. Since Deathstroke wasn't standing in front of him, Dick didn't bother to hide the grimace, but he refused to make a noise.

The killer walked around and stood in front of Dick. He looked up at the hero. Just as earlier, Deathstroke wasn't wearing his mask, though the killer was dressed in the rest of his uniform. The only difference this time was the older man wasn't wearing his sword and he was holding a plain, plastic, water bottle in his right hand.

"Thirsty?" asked the killer, as he raised the bottle toward him.

"Like I'd drink anything you'd offer," replied Dick.

The brow over Deathstroke's eye patch went up. Turning the bottle, the killer opened his mouth and squeezed the bottle. Water rushed into Deathstroke's mouth. A moment later, the killer stopped and he swallowed the water. He pointed the bottle back at Dick.

"The water is safe," said Deathstroke. "I don't want you dying from thirst before I am ready to kill you."

The hero just glared at the killer.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," said the killer, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Not..." said Dick, but stopped as Deathstroke squeezed the bottle and the water shot into the hero's open mouth.

Dick started coughing. Some of the water spilled out of his mouth and down his chest, while some of the water went down his throat.

"If I need to force the water down your throat, I will," said Deathstroke. "I can knock you out again and, when you wake up, you could be chained to the floor, flat on your back. I could hold your mouth open and force the water down. Or you could open your mouth and accept the water I am offering."

"Why?" demanded Dick, his voice was rough from coughing.

"Why am I forcing water on you?" asked Deathstroke. Again, he raised his eye brow.

"Yes," answered the hero.

"As I said, I am not ready for you to die," answered Deathstroke. "I don't want nature taking your life when it's mine to take. Every day, I will come in with a water bottle and every day you will accept it, understand Richard? I have not waited for this time with you for you to die from dehydration."

"Not like I have a choice," replied Dick.

"Exactly," replied the killer, with a smirk, before he raised the water bottle again.


	4. Chapter 3

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's right, you're getting two chapters tonight! :) Enjoy and please don't forget to write a review!**_

Chapter 3:

Dick was starting to lose track of time. Twice more, for a total of three visits, Deathstroke had come in to give him water. During the first water visit, the killer said he would come by daily. Since there weren't any windows in the room where he was being kept, Dick couldn't verify the passing of time.

 _Has it been three days?_ thought Dick. _Or is this some kind of mind game?_

Typically, when Deathstroke came into the room, whether it involved giving him water or not, there was always some kind of assault. Punches to back and stomach were most often what the killer did. It almost seemed that Deathstroke was content to just hit Dick over and over again.

His arms, shoulder and wrists all ached from hanging and his abdomen and back were sore from being hit. But that wasn't the only problem. Dick could feel the pressure on his bladder and he doubted that the killer would offer him a bathroom break. Taking a deep breath, Dick tried to ignore the pressure, but it was turning into a losing battle.

 _The downside of drinking fluids,_ thought Dick. _What goes in, must go out._

When the hero heard the door open behind him, he closed his eyes. Counting to ten, he opened them again and found Deathstroke standing in front of him. Still no sign of the mask, though the killer still wore the rest of his costume, with what looked like a staff in the spot normally occupied by the sword. Also, instead of a water bottle in the killer's hand, he held the taser from earlier.

 _I have a bad feeling about this_ , thought the hero.

The killer looked down at the taser in his hands before he made eye contact with Dick. Deathstroke smiled. "Tasers are wonderful. They cause so much pain and suffering...and humiliation."

"That's why you gave me the water," said Dick.

"Oh, no, Richard. I meant what I said," replied the killer. "I don't want you dying before I am ready. But, the water has provided me with this opportunity."

Dick said nothing, as he waited for the killer. He knew, if Deathstroke used the taser on him this time, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from urinating. While it wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to Dick, it wasn't something he looked forward to either.

"I never humiliated you," said the hero.

With a growl, Deathstroke moved forward quickly and grabbed Dick's black t-shirt. With a twist of his wrist, Deathstroke jerked his hand back and the shirt tore. Most of it fell to the floor, though there were a few scrapes of clothe that remained on Dick's body. While the shirt had provided no real protection, not having anything on his upper torso made Dick feel more vulnerable.

"Didn't humiliated me?" growled Deathstroke. "I treated you with respect, honored you with an offer to become my apprentice. And what did you do?"

Deathstroke slammed the taser into Dick's stomach and activated it. The electrical charge shot through Dick's system. Clenching his jaw, the hero didn't yell, but he did feel himself lose control of his bladder. The urine soaked into the hero's jeans and, slid down his legs, into his sneakers. A moment later, Deathstroke turned off the taser and stepped back.

"You set a trap," growled the killer. "You used my offer to bait a trap and capture me. I won't forget that, Richard."

Throwing the taser across the floor, Deathstroke reached back and grabbed the staff that had been resting in a sheath in the killer's back. The staff was very similar in style and color to what Dick used to use when he had been Robin.

Bringing it forward, he grabbed each end of the staff. Raising a knee, he braced the staff against his knee before flexing his arms, breaking the staff in half. Raising part of the broken staff in his left hand, Deathstroke bought it down hard against Dick's right shoulder.

…...

At Wayne Manor, Tim Drake waited at the front door. No longer wearing his Robin costume, the teenager was now wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a red t-shirt. Dinner was scheduled to start at six o'clock and it was nearly seven in the evening. Unable to wait any longer, he left his post and rushed toward the door to Bruce's office. He knew that the older man had been working in the office and had planned to come out when it was time for dinner.

Quickly, the teen knocked once on the door. Not waiting for an answer, Tim threw open the door and stepped into the office. Sitting in the chair at his desk, Bruce looked up. The older man was wearing a button down white shirt, though it was unbuttoned at the collar. A black tie and suit jacket had been thrown over the back of the chair that Bruce was sitting in at his desk. Tim assumed his adopted father was wearing the same black dress pants from earlier, though he couldn't confirm since Bruce was sitting down.

"Have you heard anything?" demanded Tim. "Dick isn't here yet and it's almost seven."

"Dick was taking time off..." started Bruce, but stopped when the younger boy shook his head.

"No," said Tim. "Dick took time off _from the team,_ not us."

"Tim, Dick may need space..." but stopped again when Tim shook his head again.

"Even if he wasn't coming, he always calls," said Tim.

"Timothy, stop interrupting me," said Bruce, his voice becoming more Batman.

Stopping in front of the desk, Tim said nothing.

"West's death hit him very hard," said Bruce, as he leaned back into his chair.. "They've known each other for years. Maybe Dick just needed some time to deal with it?"

"But he still would have called," insisted Tim, his voice much quieter than it had been a moment earlier.

"If you want to call him, go ahead," said Bruce. "You don't need my permission."

"I took the liberty of doing that already, Master Bruce."

Both the boy and the man look toward the doorway. Standing in the door, was Alfred Pennyworth. For years, he had worked in Wayne Manor and he had taken many roles in that time. Father. Friend. Employee. The time was etched into the older man's face. His short hair was white as new fallen snow, though his posture didn't show his age. His back was just as straight and firm as it had been when he first started to work for the Waynes. Alfred was also the only man that could still sneak up on Bruce, though not as often as he used to be able to.

"What did Dick say?" asked Tim.

"I never spoke with him, Master Timothy," replied the older man. "Both his cell phone and home phone went to voicemail."

"It's not like him, Bruce," said the teenager.

"If it will make you feel better, go to his apartment," said Bruce, as he stood up from the desk.

"I could take a motorcycle," said Tim, but that idea was quickly ended by his adopted father.

"Tim Drake isn't old enough for motorcycles," said Bruce, firmly.

"I can take you, sir," replied Alfred. "Would you care to eat the pot roast before we leave?"

"If it's all the same to you, Alfred, I'd rather leave as quickly as possible," replied Tim.

With a nod, Alfred looked at Bruce. "Shall I prepare a plate of food for you, sir, before I go?"

Shaking his head, Bruce walked around the desk. "I'll be in the 'cave when you return."

"Very well, sir," replied Alfred, before he looked at his young charge. "We shall leave in ten minutes, sir."

Nodding his head, Tim waited by the door, as he wondered where his older brother was.


	5. Chapter 4

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all the reviews: CloakedDragonWing3721, Haro kzoids, MiriB, neonstorm854, Goingdownwithmyshipz...**_

Chapter 4:

It had taken longer than Tim wanted to get to Dick's apartment in Bludhaven. Alfred dropped the teenager off at the door as he circled around to find a place to park. Tim had persuaded the older man to take the Mercedes-Benz, rather than a limo. Though the car was still expensive, it would draw less attention than a stretch limo. And Alfred would have an easier time parking it.

Tim ran up the stairs, to the fifth floor of the building, which was the top floor. Bursting through the door from the landing, he ended up in the hallway. Off the hallway were four apartments and Dick's was the last one. Running down the hallway, he was almost to the door when he realized someone was standing in front of the door.

"Barbara?"

Turning, the redhead looked at the boy rushing toward her. Barbara Gordan was a friend and ally. Though she was closer to Dick's age than Tim's, they both were on Young Justice together. Barbara was also in the Bat Family, as some called it, since she was Batgirl. Instead of her costume, which is what Tim was used to seeing her in, she wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and green tie-dyed tunic style tank top.

"Tim? Is something wrong?" she asked, though she did take in how quickly the young man had rushed down the hall.

"Did you just leave Dick's? Is that why he wasn't at dinner tonight?" asked the teen.

"No," said Barbara, shaking her head as she glanced toward the door. "I just remembered, after I got here and was knocking on the door, it was Wednesday. And what do you mean, he wasn't at dinner?"

"Wait! Hold on," said Tim, as he raised a hand toward Barbara. "Dick isn't home?"

"I've been knocking on his door for a few minutes," replied the redhead. "If he's home, he isn't answering."

Stepping up to the door, Tim raised his hand and knocked on the door. "Dick? You in there?"

The door in front of them didn't open, though one down the hall did. An older woman, with shoulder length straight gray hair and wearing an old housecoat and slippers, poked her head out the door.

"If you're looking for him, he ain't here," she said.

Tim glanced at Barbara before looking at the woman. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Who are you?" said the woman, suspicion clear on her face.

"I'm his brother," replied Tim.

"And I'm a friend," replied Barbara.

"Alright. Let's see," said the woman, since she seemed satisfied with their answers. She paused as she gathered her thoughts. "What's today?"

"Wednesday the sixth," replied Barbara.

"Right, so it would have been Sunday morning," said the older woman, as she nodded her head. "He helped me carry my groceries upstairs."

"Thank you," replied Barbara.

Shrugging her shoulders, the woman went back to her apartment and shut the door. Not wasting another moment, Tim put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key.

"You're going to break in?" asked Barbara.

"It's not breaking in when you have a key," replied the teen, before he stuck the key in the doorknob and unlocked the apartment.

Stepping into the apartment, Tim took in the messy space. Of course, Dick wasn't known for keeping a clean apartment, so that didn't mean anything. Barbara stepped in and shut the door behind her.

"Dick?" she called out.

Silence answered both of them.

"When was the last time you saw or spoke with Dick?" asked Tim, as he continued to look around the room. The teenager already knew that his older brother wasn't home.

"Monday, at Watchtower," replied Barbara. "You?"

"The same," replied the teen. He noticed the missing coffee table. "When did Dick get rid of the table?"

"What?" said the redhead, as she glanced toward where the ceffee table had been. "It was here Sunday evening."

Turning, Tim raised an eyebrow at the redhead. For a moment, Barbara met his gaze before blushing and looking away.

"And what were you doing in here Sunday evening?" asked Tim.

"Watching a movie, you perv," she replied with a laugh. A moment later the laugh and smile were gone. "The table must have left around the time Dick left the apartment."

"Why do you think that?" asked Tim, as he walked toward the couch. Kneeling down in the space where the table used to occupy, Tim examined the area.

"The space is still clear when the table used to be," she replied, as she shrugged.

Without another word, she headed toward the door to the bedroom. Stepping over a gym bag, she opened the door and looked inside. "The bedroom looks messy and the bed isn't made, but that's normal."

"I think I found something," came the reply.

Barbara stepped out of the bedroom and saw Tim sit back on his knees. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a slim, rectangular object. It was about two inches wide, though it was nearly the same length as Tim's hand. He unzipped it and took out a pair of tweezers.

"You're not supposed to have tools in civies," she said, as she stepped over the bag and walked back toward Tim in the living room.

"They're not tools technically," replied Tim, as he leaded down and looked back under the couch. "It's a manicure kit. Tweezers. Nail file. Clippers. Stuff that, if found on me in civies, wouldn't raise any eyebrows, but could be useful."

"Other than a teenage boy having a manicure kit, you're right," replied Barbara. She was standing near Tim, bent over at the waist and looking at what Tim was doing. "What is it?"

Pinching something in the tweezers, Tim pulled his arm back from under the couch. Sitting back on his heels, he looked at the object.

"We need Bruce," said Tim, as he looked at the dart before he looked up at the redhead.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

When the call came in from Tim, Batman was working in the Batcave at the computer on a current string of crimes that had been taking place in Gotham. The crimes didn't fit any of the standard criminals that normally operate in Gotham and Batman suspected a new criminal element. Whether they were completely new to crimes or just new in Gotham, Batman had yet to determine.

The phone system buzzed. Though he didn't stop examining the evidence, Batman reached forward and pressed a button. "Yes."

"It's Tim. Dick isn't here."

"Tim. I already told you. Dick is taking time off," replied Batman. "He told me himself before he spoke with Kaldur'ahm."

"You didn't tell me he spoke with you?" said Tim. Anger was clear in the young man's voice.

"I could have, but you kept interrupting me," replied Batman, his finger hovered over the button to disconnect. "If that is all?"

"I found a dart in Dick's apartment. It was under his couch."

Batman pulled his hand back from the disconnect button and looked toward the communication system. His attention was completely focused on Tim. "A dart?"

"It's not like what we use," replied the teenager.

"Nor is it the kind Artemis uses," came a female voice. Batman recognized the voice of Batgirl.

Before Batman could ask, Tim was already answering his question. "Barbara was here when I got here."

"I will be there shortly," said Batman.

Clicking off the communication system, he quickly switched out of his costume. He knew that Tim was in the apartment in civilian clothes. Also, since the teenager had called Barbara by her real name, he could only assume that the young woman was also wearing civilian clothes. At this time, Batman wouldn't be able to explain why he was in the apartment of Richard Grayson, so it would be safer for all, if he went in civilian clothes, though he did grab a few tools before leaving the Batcave.

…...

Dick was starting to gain consciousness. The last round of beating, after Deathstroke has tased him, was too much. Deathstroke was furious and attacked the bound hero was multiple blows. Bruises were already blooming all over his body. Deathstroke had also caught Dick in the face. While the blow had not broken his nose, it had bloodied his lip.

Keeping his eyes closed, so he wouldn't be distracted, he checked himself over. His whole body hurt and he couldn't tell what was pain from hanging too long and what had been caused by the beating. It didn't feel like anything was broken, though he believed at least one or two ribs were cracked.

As the hero slowly opened his eyes, he knew he was no longer hanging from the ceiling. Instead, he was bound to a chair in the middle of the room. Dick looked around. He was in the same room as before, though he was facing the door in the back of the room. He could see the chains still hanging from the ceiling or, in the case of those used to bind his feet, laying on the floor. As he looked around, he could feel that, instead of ropes or chains holding him to the chair, tape bound him to the chair. He tried to pull against the tape, but found it had been wrapped too tightly to provide any give.

As he continued to examine the room, the door opened and Deathstroke entered the room. The killer was dressed as normal. Dick was able to see the older man's face, but the killer still wore the rest of his uniform. Deathstroke wasn't holding anything this time, though the sword was sheathed on the killer's back.

"What now?" asked Dick. He voice was rough, though not from yelling. The hero refused to yell at anything the killer had done so far.

Not saying anything, Deathstroke smiled. He walked around and stopped behind Dick. Trying to shift in his chair, Dick was unable to see the killer. He was caught off guard when the killer grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. His shoulders and neck ached from the sudden movement.

Dick was now able to see the killer. While one hand was occupied with Dick's hair, the killer's other hand held a chain. Looking up, beyond Deathstroke, Dick could see some kind of bucket held up by a pulley system.

"I figured you could you a bath," said the killer, before he pulled the chain.

Deathstroke's words were his only warning to hold his breath as the bucket emptied water over Dick's face and body. The water was ice cold. His body shivered from the cold. A moment later, the water ended and the hero could breath again. The killer released Dick's hair. Dick shook his head to get the water out of his eyes.

Deathstroke walked across the room. Dick opened his eyes and watched the killer pick up the taser that had been thrown onto the floor earlier. The killer walked back toward the hero.

"Water and electricity would make a very bad combination," said the killer, as he stopped in front of the hero.

Deathstroke pressed the trigger. Dick could see the spark arc in the device. The killer held the device close to the hero's face. Dick refused to lean back, no matter how much he wanted to avoid making contact with the taser.

"But, as tempted as I am to test whether you would survive, I am not ready to end my revenge yet."

The older man took his finger off the trigger and the arc of electricity ended. With the taser in his left hand, he pulled back his right hand, made a fist, and punched Dick in the face. The hero's head snapped back. This time, Dick felt the crunched in his nose. Blood rushed out, down over his lips, and dripped off his chin.

Raising a leg, the killer kicked Dick, catching him in the middle of his chest. Though he was restrained to the chair, the chair was not secured to the floor. It fell backwards, taking Dick with him. He slammed to the ground, the hero's head bounced off the floor. Black dots float in Dick's vision as he blinked his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, Deathstroke was standing over him and the sword had been drawn. The blade was pointed down.

"I believe it was your right shoulder last time," said Deathstroke. Both of them remembered their first battle, where the killer had stabbed the hero, then Robin, through his right shoulder.

Without another comment, Deathstroke slammed the blade down into Dick's left shoulder. Clenching his jaw, Dick couldn't stop a small groan from escaping, as the blade pierced his skin.

"Finally, a noise," said the killer, before he pulled the blade from the hero's wound.

Calmly, the killer wiped the blade on Dick's leg before he sheathed the sword. The killer stepped back and examined Dick.

"It didn't escape my notice that you refused to make any noises, no matter what I did," said Deathstroke. "So stubborn, Richard."

The killer turned and left the room.

…...

After ending the communication with Bruce, Tim glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the gym bag in front of the bedroom door.

"Barbara?" said the teenager. "Dick is messy, but he isn't one to leave something in the doorway."

Following Tim's gaze, Barbara looked at the gym bag. "Agreed."

While Tim stayed where he was near the couch, Barbara walked over to the bag. Kneeling down next to it, she opened the bag.

"Shit," she said quietly.

"What is it?" demanded Tim.

Reaching a hand inside the bag, she drew out the Nightwing costume. Turning, she showed it to Tim.

"Dick would never leave that out for anyone to find," said Tim.

"Someone must have grabbed him," said Barbara, as she set the costume back in the bag. "Probably was waiting here, in the apartment, for Dick to return."

"I bet someone fell on the table," said Tim. "That's why it isn't here."

"But, who grabbed him?" demanded Barbara. "And where is he now?"


	7. Chapter 6

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Holidays were busy then I got sick. Here's a short chapter!  
**_

Chapter 6:

It didn't take Bruce Wayne long to arrive at his adopted son's apartment. The man had quickly gotten into his black Porsche Cayman and drove from Gotham to Bludhaven. As he pulled up in front of the apartment building, Bruce could see Alfred in the Mercedes-Benz about two building down from the apartment. While it would not escape the older man's attention that Bruce showed up, Bruce didn't have time to speak with Alfred.

With an urgency that was more common in his masked persona, Bruce rushed up the stairs and down the hall. Almost as if Barbara had been waiting for him, the door opened just as Bruce reached the apartment. He stepped into the room and Barbara closed the door.

"The dart," said Bruce, his voice deeper and sounded like Batman, even though the man wasn't wearing the mask. The older man reached into his pocket and pulled out a container, around the size of a pill bottle.

Tim hadn't put the dart down. Worried that wherever he put it down, something could get on the dart and contaminate the evidence, the teenager had held the dart in the tweezers. When Bruce opened the container, Tim dropped the dart into it. Bruce sealed the bottle before he looked at the dart.

"There's more, Bruce," said Barbara. The redhead pointed out the gym bag near the bedroom. "I didn't move it until you could see where we found it."

"What is it?" demanded Bruce. He turned his attention away from the dart and looked at the bag the redhead pointed at.

"It's Dick's costume," replied Tim.

Barbara walked over to the bag. Kneeling next to the bag, the redhead reached in and pulled a little of the costume out so Bruce could see it. "We found it near the bedroom door."

"Dick would have put it away, Bruce," said Tim, the urgency clear in the boy's voice. "And his coffee table it missing."

Bruce didn't say anything as he looked at the empty space. He had noticed the missing table immediately. Not because he spent a lot of time in the apartment but because the whole apartment was messy, except for that space.

"The table was here Sunday," said Barbara, as she walked away from the bag and back toward where Bruce and Tim were standing. "Dick asked me over to discuss his decision about taking a leave, so I saw the table when I came over."

"The missing table, the dart, and Dick's costume out where almost anyone could have found it? I think someone grabbed Dick, Bruce," said Tim.

Without saying a word, Bruce looked around the room. He walked over to the gym bag and zipped it up. He put the bag on his shoulder then turned to looked at Tim and Barbara.

"Bruce, we need to figure out who grabbed Dick," said Barbara, frustrated that the older man wasn't moving fast enough.

"I already know," said Bruce, before he walked toward the front door of the apartment "Tim, make sure to lock up the apartment when you leave."

Without another word, Bruce left the apartment.

…...

Putting the gym bag in the passenger seat, Bruce sat in the driver's seat for a moment. He set the container that held the dart on top of the bag. The moment the older man had seen the dart, something had tightened in his stomach. Fear. Not for himself, but for his son. Bruce had seen the dart in previous cases. As soon as he saw the dart, he knew who was behind Dick's disappearance.

 _Deathstroke_ , thought Bruce.

Three years earlier, Deathstroke had attacked Dick. For some reason, the killer wanted to make the younger man his apprentice. Instead, Dick used the offer to bait a trap and Deathstroke fell for it. The killer firmly believed in respect and he would have seen Dick's actions as disrespectful. Now, the killer had Dick.

Before he told the team of his intentions, Dick had spoken with Bruce. The older man knew that, not only did Dick intend to take time off from the team, but from Nightwing in general. Which meant that Deathstroke would have had to have grabbed Dick two days ago, before Dick had been able to put away his costume, after he returned from Watchtower. It would have been the only time Dick would have had his costume out.

The older man worried about Dick. He had to believe that, after only two days, Deathstroke wouldn't be bored yet. The only question that haunted Bruce was, how hurt was was his son?


	8. Chapter 7

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been so long. My plot bunny went away for a little while, but it's back now.**_

Chapter 7

Dick opened his eyes. He didn't know how much time had passed since the last time Deathstroke had been in the room. The hero was still taped to the chair and still on the floor. He was damp, which told Dick that some time had gone by, but not enough for the dark haired man to completely dry out.

After Deathstroke had left the room, Dick had taken the time to rest. Much like a sleeping cat, Dick could nap, but within a moment's notice, open his eyes and be aware of his environment. For a moment, he wondered what had caused him to wake up.

He looked around, but couldn't see anything or anyone. Stretching his neck, he tried to look toward the door, but couldn't see the far wall and the door.

"Such a waste."

Realizing that the killer's entrance into the room must have awaken him, Dick waited to see if Deathstroke would walk over to him.

"You would have made an excellent apprentice."

"Not interested," replied Dick.

"And what a coup it would have been if I had stolen Batman's partner," continued the killer.

Deathstroke walked over and looked down at the hero. The shoulder wound was bleeding, but barely. The hero's normally tan skin was pale, but that could have been due to any number of reasons, including the abuse that the killer himself had done.

"Of course, I still have that option," said Deathstroke.

There was a moment of silence before Dick spoke. "Stay away from him."

"Who?" asked the older man. "I know you don't mean Jason, since that young man is dead."

The hero refused to answer.

"I wonder how Timothy would work out as my apprentice," continued Deathstroke, as he still looked down on the hero.

"Batman will keep him safe," replied Dick.

"Like he kept you safe?" demanded Deathstroke. The killer knelt down beside Dick. He grabbed the chair and lifting it, putting the chair back on its feet. The older man then walked around and faced the hero. "I had so many opportunities to grab you, Richard, and your mentor was no where around to protect you."

Deathstroke looked down at his right hand. He looked at the back of the hand and the palm before reaching forward and wrapping it around Dick's throat. The killer's thumb and forefinger pressed against the hero's carotid arteries, while being careful to avoid crushing the trachea.

The hero struggled, but with his arms and feet taped to the chair, Dick knew if Deathstroke wanted him dead, there was nothing the dark haired man could do. He twisted in the chair, but he could not escape the older man.

"Just like there is no one here to save you now, Richard," said Deathstroke.

It was the last thing Dick heard before his eyes went black.

…...

In the Batcave, Batman had the screen split, showing multiple buildings. He had been examining the different places when he heard two different sets of footsteps.

"The apartment has been locked up," said Tim, as he walked up next to his mentor.

"Now will you tell us who took Dick?" asked Barbara, as she walked up on Batman's other side.

For a moment, Batman said nothing as he continued to look at the buildings on the screen. The two younger heroes looked at the screen. While neither recognized all the locations, both Tim and Barbara recognized some of the locations.

"Do you know these places?" asked Batman. The Dark Knight's attention don't leave the screen.

"That's the Mall of Gotham," said Barbara, pointing toward the last picture in the first row "And that's Gotham Academy," as she pointed toward toward the middle picture in the second row.

"That's the Gotham Museum of Art," said Tim, as he pointed at the third picture in the first row, "and that's the diner that Dick and...Wally liked to go to," as he pointed at the picture to left of the Museum image.

All three were silent as they looked at the pictures.

"I don't understand what this has to do with Dick," said Barbara, losing her patience first and looking down at Batman. She ignored the other three pictures, two of rooftops and one of a New Year City dock. "Or how these pictures will help us find him."

"I feel like I know these places," said Tim, as he continued to look at the images.

"Of course you know them, Tim," said Barbara. "You attend the Academy. You've been to the Mall and Museum multiple times. But what does this have to do with Dick? Where is he? And who took him?"

"Deathstroke," answered Batman.

"That's it," said Tim, as he looked down at his mentor. "That rooftop," the teenager pointed at the first picture, "is where Deathstroke attacked Dick the first time. And that rooftop," as he pointed toward the last picture, "is where you caught Deathstroke."

"Yes, Robin," replied Batman, even though the teenager wasn't wearing his costume.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Barbara.

Batman didn't answer. Tim waited a moment before he looked at the redhead. "When Dick was still Robin, Deathstroke tried to recruit him. These are the places where they met."

"They didn't always meet," said Batman. "Dick never saw Slade at the Mall, though Slade did admit that he had been there watching Dick."

"So you're saying Deathstroke grabbing Dick has something to do with this?" asked the redhead, as she waved a hand toward the computer screen.

Batman nodded once.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Tim.

"We're going to check out all these locations," replied Batman, as he stood up. "Robin, check out the two rooftops. Make sure to include the whole building, including the basement."

Tim nodded before rushing off to get his costume.

"Batgirl, check out the diner and the Academy," said Batman.

Barbara nodded before she went to grab her spare Batgirl costume. Too many times in the past, she had been given a mission, only to waste time needing to return home to get her costume. After a conversation with Batman, it was decided she could keep a spare in the 'cave.

"I will take the Mall and the Museum," said Batman.

As he finished speaking, both Tim and Barbara were back in front of him standing in their costumes. "If you find anything, radio me immediately."

Both of the younger heroes nodded. Batman went for the Batmobile, while Robin and Batgirl each took a Batcycle. Moments later, all three heroes headed out into the night.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Robin had finished examining the first building, where Dick had first met Deathstroke on the rooftop, and had moved onto the the building where the first Robin had baited the killer into a trap. The rooftop was clear. Since the building was mostly abandoned, it didn't take Robin long before he was in the basement.

He entered a room near the furnace and stopped. Immediately he placed his left hand on the arm of his right glove and activate the communication system.

"Batman?"

There was a moment of silence before the younger hero heard a response. "Go ahead."

"I'm at the second rooftop location, in the basement," said Robin, as he eyes swept over the chains hanging from the ceiling and a broken chair. "...Get over here."

…...

Robin waited outside the room for Batman. The younger hero wanted to go into the room. He wanted to search it for evidence because he knew that Dick had been held in that room. Robin hadn't seen anything in his quick check of the room that told him that his older brother had been there, but Robin felt in his gut that he was correct.

"Robin."

The teenager had been leaning against the wall near the door when he heard his mentor. Straightening, Robin looked at Batman.

"Is Batgirl coming?" asked teenager.

"I told her to finish her locations before coming here," said Batman, as he walked by his partner and placed a hand on the doorknob.

The Dark Knight opened the door and entered the room. He also saw the chains hanging from the ceiling and pooled on the floor. There appeared to be pieces of black clothe near where the chains were hanging. He noted the broken chair, facing the door, in the room also. Batman could detect the odor of urine and sweat. The older hero entered the room and he saw a dark wet mark near the chair. Batman knelt near the mark. He knew, without examining the wet spot, that it was blood.

Robin entered the room behind Batman and stopped near the spot on the ground. Taking a swab from his utility belt, the younger hero took a sample. Activating the computer in his glove and syncing with the Batcomputer, Robin entered the sample to be checked.

While the teenager waited for the results, Robin looked at the chains. "It could be a coincidence. There are a lot of sick people in Gotham and this room could have been used against someone else."

Batman said nothing, though he looked up from the blood on the floor to his partner.

"It may not be..." said Robin, but stopped when his glove signaled a result. "Dick. The blood. It's...Dick's."

Batman stood up. He said nothing as he examined the room.

"Batman," said Robin.

The hero looked away from the chains and toward his partner. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," said Robin, then looked away from Batman.

Batman walked over and stood near the younger hero.

"The blood. It's fresh, probably less than an hour old," continued the teenager. "If I had come here first instead of the other building..."

"Stop," said Batman.

Robin looked at the floor, unable to look up at his mentor. After a moment's hesitation, Batman raised a hand and placed it gently on Robin's left shoulder.

"Look at me," said Batman. The older man waited until his partner was looking at him. Once Robin was looking up at him, Batman dropped his hand. "We will find him. And Deathstroke will pay."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dick was examining his environment. He was in a new room. While there were a lot of similarities between the first room he had been in and the current room, he could tell it was a new space. Both the first room and the current room were windowless, with gray brick walls and a cement floor, which told Dick that it was probably located in a basement. Both room were roughly the same size, though this room looked more rectangular, whereas the first room was more of a square. Also, like the first room, this room only had one exit. A door was located directly across from where Dick sat.

Even though there were chains in the room, though they were against the wall instead of being in the middle of the room, like the first space Dick had been held in, they weren't being used. Instead Dick was in a chair. A heavy duty tape restrained the hero. Tape bound Dick's ankles to each chair leg, while his wrists were taped to the back of the chair. There was very little give to the tape, which pulled harshly at the skin on his wrists. The jeans that Dick was wearing protected his ankles, though it didn't make it any easier for Dick to escape.

As he finished looking over the room, the door across the room opened. Deathstroke entered, without his mask, though still wearing the rest of his costume. It didn't appear that the older man was wearing a weapon.

"I see you're awake," said Deathstroke.

"Batman found the last location, did he?" demanded Dick. "That's why we had to move."

"Actually, Batman didn't find us," replied the killer. "Robin did."

The older man walked up to the bound hero. Clinching his fist, he backhanded Dick across the face.

"Nightwing!"

"Robin!?" said Dick. He glanced around the room. He heard the younger teen, but didn't see him.

"As I said, Robin discovered us," said Deathstroke. "While I was able to capture him, he had already radioed Batman. Of course, now with two prisoners, I needed a different space."

"No," said Dick, shaking his head.

Deathstroke pointed toward a camera and microphone that was positioned above the door. "Timothy is in a different room, but he can hear and see everything that happens in this room."

"Leave him alone," demanded Dick. "He has nothing to do with this."

Deathstroke smiled and walked out the room. Dick glanced toward the camera before he looked down.

"I will get us out of this," he whispered, hoping his brother heard him.

…...

Deathstroke closed the door behind him and entered the room directly across the hall. Of course, to call the room anything other than a large closet would be a mistake. The room was small, less than fifty square feet in floor space and most of that space was taken up with a desk and computer. As he shut the door, he looked at the computer. On the monitor was Richard, still taped into the chair. Slade smiled.

Slade grew up before computers were popular, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use one. The older man reached over and flipped a switch, which turned off the sound to Richard's room. He then turned his attention to the computer. Opening a folder, he brought up multiple sound files. Slade double clicked one sound file.

"Nightwing!" Robin's voice echoed in the room.

While Slade had been working for the Light, he hadn't forgotten Nightwing. He thought and planned multiple ways to hurt Richard. The different ways he would torture the hero. The blood and pain he would cause. Not to mention the mental torture.

The older man had no interest in turning the newest Robin into his apprentice, no matter what he had told Richard previously. Yes, the teenager was an excellent detective, but his physical skills were simply not as good as Richard's. That didn't mean he couldn't use the threat against Richard.

Slade sat at the computer and he placed a small device next to the keyboard. He looked at all the sound files on the screen. It had taken some time to collect the sound bytes. He had recorded Robin on multiple occasions. Slade had turned a few of those recordings into the sound files he now had on the computer. With the sound files and the small device that fit easily into the palm of his hand, he could play any one of those files when needed. He didn't need Robin here to use the boy to hurt Richard.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Robin contacted Aqualad. With Dick missing, Tim needed to be in Gotham. That didn't mean that Robin felt that the mission wasn't important, but his older brother was more important. At Batman's request, he didn't tell the Atlantean why, but he did tell the team leader that something had come up that required Robin to stay in his home city. It came as no surprise when Batgirl made a similar call.

"Do you think Kaldur suspects anything?" asked the redhead. She had just finished speaking with Aqualad.

"Even if he does, he won't pry," answered Robin.

The teenager typed a few key strokes and the file on Deathstroke reappeared on the screen. Robin was checking over the previous file Batman had made concerning Deathstroke. The dark haired teenager was paying especially close attention to the information regarding the exchanges Dick had had with the killer. Batman had insisted both Batgirl and Robin know the case and the locations. It seemed even more important now than before, since they already knew one of those locations had been used by Deathstroke to hold Dick.

"Tim?" asked Batgirl. She waited for the teenager to look up from the computer. Batgirl was looked down at the teenager. Her mask was shoved back and resting against the back of her neck. "Do you think he's still alive?"

"Dick is alive," replied the younger hero. Whereas Batgirl was partly out of her costume, Robin wore his, including the mask.

"How can we be sure?" asked the female hero.

"Slade wouldn't have moved a corpse."

Turning, both heroes looked behind them as Batman walked up to them. Like Robin, Batman wore his complete costume. On the outside, it appeared that Batman wasn't worried. Some would even believe the reputation that Batman had regarding those who were part of the Bat Family. That the others were useful soldiers, but Batman could find others to fill their shoes. But Tim knew that that was a lie. Batman cared. He just didn't know how to always show it.

While everything about Batman spoke of calm and controlled, Batgirl was projecting the opposite. Ever since she had heard about the room that Robin and Batman had examined, anger had been slowly building and Barbara wanted any excuse to let it out. Even if it meant yelling at her mentor.

"He could have killed Dick already and ditched the body," said Barbara. She place her hands on her hips at she glared at Batman.

"Don't say that, Babs," said Robin, shaking his head.

"Why not?" demanded the red head, as she turned to look down at Robin. Her voice vibrated with anger and fear. "It's what you're thinking too!"

"You're here to read about Deathstroke. To understand him and his methods," said Batman, as he decided to ignore her outburst.

"How will that help?" demanded Batgirl.

Batman said nothing. There was a moment of silence in the Batcave. Robin glanced at the file on the screen and a thought crossed his mind.

"Deathstroke is operating outside of his normal m.o.," said Robin, as he looked up at his mentor. "Normally he doesn't...play with those he intends to kill."

"Yes, Robin," replied Batman, as he nodded his head once.

"How does that prove Dick is alive?" demanded Batgirl.

For a moment, Robin looked at Batman before he turned to look at the redhead.

"Deathstroke wouldn't have moved a corpse, even to ditch it," explained the teenager. "Since we didn't find Dick's...body, then that means he's alive."

…...

"Richard?"

Dick opened his eyes and looked at the man standing before him. Deathstroke still wasn't wearing a mask, but he was wearing the rest of his costume. His hands were empty.

The hero realized he was losing his edge. He hadn't heard the door open or shut when the older man entered the room. This was the first time the killer had entered the room before Dick was aware of it.

"I have a proposal," said Deathstroke.

"What?" asked the hero. His eyes kept straying to the camera above the door.

"Beating a bound man isn't as much...fun as I had hoped," said the killer. "I could release you from the chair and give you the freedom of the room."

"Aren't you worried that I will escape?" asked Dick.

"No," replied the older man, a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth. "Because I have Robin in another room."

Again, Dick's eyes were drawn to the camera.

"If you attempt to escape, I will kill Robin," said Deathstroke. All humor was gone from the killer's face.

"I thought you wanted him as your new apprentice?" demanded the hero.

"I want to hurt you more," replied the older man. "Understand me, Richard. Robin will suffer for any foolish mistakes you make."

"Then why do you want to free me?" asked Dick.

"To give you the illusion that you have a chance," replied Deathstroke. The smirk returned. "So that, every time I beat you, you will know that it wasn't because you couldn't defend yourself. It was because you're not as good as everyone thinks. So that, Robin can see that the man he looks up to is a failure."

"No!" Robin's voice came through the communication system.

Dick jerked at hearing Robin's voice. For a moment, he looked away from the killer standing before him and toward the camera above the door. It looked almost like the older hero was going to address the camera before he returned his attention to the man standing before him.

"Alright," replied Dick. "If you free me, I won't attempt to escape."

"It's more than just not escaping, Richard," replied Deathstroke. He reached into his belt and pulled out a long knife.

"Nightwing!" Robin's voice entered the room again, but this time, Dick didn't jerk at the voice.

"When I enter this room, you will fight me," said the older man. "As I said, I'm bored beating a bound man."

Walking over, the killer began cutting away at the tape that trapped Dick to the chair.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dick grunted. He knew that Deathstroke had previously cracked at least one rib in an earlier beating at the first location, but that cracked rib was now broken after the hero hadn't moved fast enough to block or dodge the kick the killer had sent toward his right side. Now, between the stab wound in his left shoulder and a broken rib on his right side, Dick was in rough shape.

"Do you want to stop, Richard?" asked the older man.

Though Dick was bent over, trying to adjust to the pain, he could hear the amusement in Deathstroke's voice. Probably if he had been looking at Deathstroke, then he would have seen the amusement as well. The older man rarely wore his mask now around Dick.

"Does it matter what I want?" demanded the hero, as he straightened up and glared at the other man.

"Of course not," replied Deathstroke.

The killer moved in. Quickly, the older man attempted to sweep Dick's legs out from under him. While the hero did jump to avoid it, the landing jarred his side and Dick gasped. Deathstroke took advantage of the younger man's distraction. The older man placed a hand on Dick's left shoulder, but at the last moment, before the hero realized what the older man intended to do, it was already too late to stop it.

Deathstroke jammed his thumb into the open wound on Dick's shoulder. The younger hero tried to back up, but the killer moved with him. Instead of getting away from the older man, Deathstroke moved with the younger man back until Dick slammed into the wall, leaving the hero no room to move. Deathstroke rotated his thumb inside the wound, causing Dick to cry out. As soon as the hero voiced his pain, Deathstroke removed his thumb from the wound and stepped back.

Raising his right arm, though is caused his side and broken rib to ache, Dick covered his injured shoulder. The hero stayed against the wall and kept his eyes on the killer. The younger man wasn't sure whether Deathstroke was done for the moment or only giving Dick false hope that this encounter was done. For now.

The hero glanced toward the camera. Though he was glad Robin hadn't spoken at all while he had fought with Deathstroke, which would have distracted Dick from his fight, he did wonder why his brother had been silent. Deathstroke caught his gaze and smiled.

"I wonder what Timothy would have said, if I had not muted the microphone before we started," said the killer.

Dick jerked his gaze from the camera to look at the older man. "Why?"

"Why did I mute the microphone?" asked Deathstroke. His tone was patronizing. Dick ignored the tone as he nodded his head. "I didn't want you to be distracted by the boy."

Dick stepped away from the wall and waited to see what the older man would do. Deathstroke watched the hero. The killer knew that the other man needed time to rest. Deathstroke wasn't ready to kill the younger man yet, but he also knew that if he turned his back to leave the room, the hero would try to attack.

Slowly, Deathstroke allowed his body to relax. He wanted to see if the younger man would lower his guard, even for a moment.

"You must know that you will never leave here alive," said Deathstroke. His voice was calm.

"I'm not dead yet," replied the younger man.

"That could change easily," replied the older man. His brow lifted over his left eye. "You are in no condition to stop me."

Though the words were threatening, the tone of voice didn't match. It was almost like Deathstroke was commenting on the weather, not discussing ending the life of the man in front of him. It also hadn't escaped Dick's attention the relax body language of the older man.

A second later, Deathstroke went from relaxed to tense. He launched himself at the younger man, but Dick was ready. He dodged, moving away from the wall. But he didn't move fast enough. The older man caught Dick's left wrist in his hand and yanked him back. He swung the younger man around, Dick's back to Deathstroke's front. The older man wrapped his arm around Dick's throat and pulled him tight against his body.

Rather than struggle to move the older man's arm away from his throat, Dick grabbed the arm and then pushed his hip into the older man, attempting to throw the man away from him. And it would have worked, if Deathstroke hadn't of punched Dick in the side. The same side as the broken rib.

A sound, cross between a grunt and cry of pain, left Dick's lips. The younger man's vision was already getting blurred.

"Until next time," said Deathstroke into the young man's ear.

It was the last thing Dick heard before he lost consciousness.

…...

Richard's arms fell to his side and his body relaxed into unconsciousness. Deathstroke released his hold on the younger man's throat. He didn't want to accidentally kill the hero. As Richard fell to the floor, the killer looked down at the young man.

Bruises marked the hero's body. Blood was smeared around the wound in Richard's left shoulder. The bleeding had been slowing down, but after Deathstroke had jammed his thumb into the wound, it was bleeding more freely. Deathstroke would need to monitor the injury. He did not want the hero dying from blood loss.

The hero's skin was pale. Possibly from pain. Possibly from lack of food. While Deathstroke made sure that the young man was properly hydrated, he was less interested in providing Richard with food. The killer wasn't interested in keeping Richard comfortable, just alive.

Deathstroke was tempted. Even now, injured and having not eaten in days, Richard had handled himself well. Of course, the younger man was defeated. That was to be expected. The thought of having Richard as his apprentice crossed Deathstroke's mind.

 _The boy is still young. Not even 20_ , thought the older man.

A part of Deathstroke wanted to kill the young man. The offer Deathstroke made years ago should have been seen as an honor and Richard had used his offer to bait a trap. The hero didn't deserve a second chance. He wanted Richard's blood on his hands. The killer looked at his hand that did, in fact, have the hero's blood staining it.

Slowly, Deathstroke's eye drifted back to the hero on the ground. The older man had dreamed of making Richard scream. Perhaps he, like the blood on his hands, could have both the screaming and the apprentice?


	13. Chapter 12

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I like reviews :) They encourage me. Also, the lines in bold in the chapter are from Personal.  
**_

Chapter 12

Robin entered the Batcave. The teenager had been in the city. With Batgirl's help, he had returned to all the locations that they had checked the previous night. The young hero was hoping to find something that they had missed. The hope had died at the last location, which had been the mall.

Robin was frustrated. Based on the evidence that they had, Dick went missing after leaving the Watchtower. That was Monday night. It was now Thursday evening and Tim was getting more worried with each passing day. He hadn't slept well, though the young hero estimated that he had gotten more sleep than his mentor.

Batman was seated at the computer. Like Robin, he was rechecking everything they knew to see if they had missed something. Anything.

"Barbara and I finished rechecking all the locations, just in case we missed something," said Robin, as he came to a stop next to his mentor. "There was nothing."

Batman didn't reply. His focus was on the screen. Robin waited a moment before he raised a question that had been bothering the youth since they finished checking over the last location.

"Should we check the docks in New York? It's the only location that we haven't checked."

"Deathstroke is in Gotham," said Batman. "He hasn't left."

"You mean, they haven't left, right?" asked Robin. The teenager turned and half sat, half leaned against the computer console. "Bruce? Don't think I haven't noticed how you're avoiding his name."

Batman turned his attention away from the screen and looked at his partner.

"Since we realized he was missing, you've barely said Dick's name," continued Robin.

"Do you have a point?" asked Batman, before he returned his attention to the screen.

His voice sounded cold, but, unless Tim was wrong, there was a underlying tone of fear in the Dark Knight's voice that could almost be detected. With a sigh, the teenager pushed away from the computer and went to get out of his costume.

Batman turned and looked at his partner as Robin walked away. _My third partner_ , thought Batman, as his gaze drifted over to look at the Robin costume in the glass case. The space next to the case was empty. The fear that had been growing for the older hero was, would Batman be putting a new case next to that costume? A new case to hold the Nightwing costume.

He closed his eyes and turned his face back toward the computer before he reopened them. With a few quick key strokes, a new window opened on the screen. It showed an image of Deathstroke, but it wasn't a picture. It was a recording, from when Deathstroke had contacted the Justice League, after the man had gone after Dick the first time.

" **Greetings, Justice League," said Deathstroke.**

Of course, the recording only provided one side of the conversation. Batman didn't have a copy of what the Justice League had said, but Batman remembered. He would never forget that day or the image of seeing Dick, crumpled against the roof ledge where Deathstroke had left him after attacking him.

" **Always personal, Batman."**

Batman studied the background. The Dark Knight always assumed that Deathstroke had made contact near where Dick had been left.

" **What do I want? You don't have time for me to list everything I want, Batman."**

Batman reached forward and paused the video. He examined the buildings in the background. Now, given the chance to study the background, Batman realized he recognized some of the buildings. That rooftop was located less than a block from where Robin had been discovered.

Batman wasted little time. The Dark Knight got up from the chair and moved to the Batmobile. The hero wanted to examine the building that Deathstroke had stood on all those years ago.

…...

From across the street, Batman studied the building. It hadn't taken him long to find the building that Deathstroke had used to contact the Justice League. Also, based on how much taller it was compared to the building the attack had taken place on, all those years ago, the killer would have been able to keep a close eye on Robin as he waited for the Justice League to find the youth.

 _Did you stay on that rooftop, Slade?_ thought Batman. _Did you watch me arrive and pick up Dick? Did you gloat as I held my injured son?_

But the hero put the thought out of his mind as he studied the building. Using night-vision binoculars, Batman studied the empty building. It appeared to be abandoned. From what Batman could see, the rooms were mostly empty, except for an occasional broken chair or table. The only space Batman couldn't examine from the outside was the basement. As Batman examined the building, he couldn't detect any windows that lead to the basement.

Batman debated whether to contact Robin. If this was the location that Deathstroke was using, then he didn't want to take any chances of the killer escaping. But the older hero knew he couldn't wait. Taking his grappling line from the belt, Batman shot it toward the building. As soon as the hook caught, Batman descended to the street level.

If the killer was in the building, Batman did not want to enter by breaking windows or doors. If this was the new base, the noise would alert Deathstroke that someone had entered. As much as Batman wanted to rush, he took his time. He checked the door for sensors, but finding none, Batman gently opened the door and entered the abandoned building.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dick was on his hands and knees. He was doing his best not to vomit. Not that there was any food in his stomach to throw up, but there was the water that the hero had drank after he had woken up from the last beating.

 **One Hour Earlier...**

Dick opened his eyes and looked around. He was laying on the floor, in the middle of the room. Most likely where he had passed out. The room was empty, even the chair was gone, though the chain were still hanging against the wall. His body felt cool, but that could have been due to any number of reasons. In pain? Yup. His whole body hurt, even his throat where Deathstroke had choked him. Lack of food? Sure. He hadn't eaten anything since before he had gone to Watchtower to talk with Aqualad and Dick didn't even know how long ago that was. Clothing? All Dick had were his jeans and sneakers. The shirt was long gone. Lack of water? Dick hadn't had water since before he moved to the new location.

As he studied the room, he did notice a bottle of water sitting nearby. Knowing he needed the fluids and hoping Deathstroke wouldn't use it as reason to tase him again, Dick picked up the bottle. It wasn't a large bottle, maybe six ounces, and examined it.

The sealed was still present. Dick decided it was safe enough to drink and opened the bottle. He had just finished it when the door opened and Deathstroke entered the room.

"Enjoyed your nap?" the older man asked.

 **Present...**

Now Dick was on the floor after receiving a punch to his abdomen.

His stomach hurt from where Deathstroke had just hit him and the young man hoped that the killer's blow hadn't ruptured something. Before Dick could recover, he felt the fist connect with the left side of his head. The blow was so strong, it knocked him onto his stomach.

"So disappointed," said Deathstroke, as he stood over the hero.

"Fuck you," grunted out Dick.

The hero received a kick to his left side. Thankfully, it wasn't the side where Dick already had a broken rib. Sadly, it felt like Deathstroke had just cracked another rib.

"Show some respect, boy," said the killer.

"Go to hell," said Dick, as he put his hands down, palms flat on the floor, to push himself up.

Not allowing the young man to stand, Deathstroke quickly moved forward and slammed his foot down onto Dick's left hand. There was a crack, followed by Dick crying out. Dick rolled onto his side, as he used his right hand to cradle his left hand.

Stepping away from the hero, Deathstroke wrapped his hand around the chain that was hanging on the wall. Unlike the chains at the previous location, a motor was attached to these. Deathstroke could decided how much or how little length there was. Wrapping the chain around Dick's throat, he activated the motor. The chain pulled Dick back, slamming him into the wall. Stopping the motor, Deathstroke held the other end of the chain and stepped in front of Dick.

"You don't have a chance," said the killer.

The chains weren't so tight that his air was completely cut off, but Dick was struggling to breath. He clutched at the chain around his neck. While his right hand could wrap around the chains to pull, his left hand had been broken by Deathstroke and mostly pawed at the chain.

"I always win, Richard," said the older man.

"No," gasped Dick.

With Deathstroke standing so close, Dick couldn't get enough space to kick the older man. Instead the hero removed his right hand from the chains. Closing the hand into a fist, the hero swung out at Deathstroke and caught the older man across the face.

Growling, Deathstroke yanked on the chain and completely cut off Dick's air. No noise or gasp came from Dick, even though his mouth was wide open. The hero's face started to turn red.

"I will break you," growled the killer, as he watched the young man struggle to find air.

…...

"I will break you."

Dick heard the words, but they sounded far away. His vision was beginning to fade and this time the hero wondered if he would wake up. Struggling to get air, Dick could think of nothing more than for the chain to be removed. Almost like a wish come true, the chain fell away.

Instead of Deathstroke holding the chain and standing in front of him, now the killer was on the floor and someone else was standing in front of Dick.

"Batman," whispered Dick.

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will post the next chapter Friday. :)**_


	15. Chapter 14

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the promised chapter. I will post more this weekend.**_

Chapter 14

Batman had entered the building quietly. When he had been watching the building, the Dark Knight hadn't seen any movement. The only area the hero couldn't examine from the outside had been the basement.

Batman quickly looked around and found a door that lead downstairs. When he stepped off the stairs and into the basement, he found the floor to be mostly a large open space. Naked pipes ran near the ceiling and the floor was cement. At a quick glance, the walls appeared to be some kind of gray stone.

Toward the back of the room, Batman could see a hallway. Since the large, empty space offered no area for someone to hide, Batman quickly moved through it and down the hall. He stopped at the first door, on the right, and listened. Not hearing anything, Batman opened the door. The door opened to a small closet. Shelved ran from floor to ceiling and old cans of paint and cleaners were left on them. Quietly, Batman shut the door.

Stepping across the narrow hall, Batman listened at the shut door almost directly across from the closet. Again, he didn't hear anything. Slowly, Batman opened the door and found a small room, that would have been hot, if the large furnace located in the room had been running. Quickly, Batman checked the room, but he didn't find anything. As soon as he was done examining the room, he moved out of the room and walked further down the hall.

Near the end of the hall, Batman found two more doors, one of his left and the other on his right. Batman stepped up to the door on his right and pressed his ear against the door.

"...break you."

Deathstroke. Batman recognized that voice. He threw open the door and stared into the room. He saw a sight that froze his blood.

Dick was held against the wall. Shirtless, the young man's upper chest and left shoulder were smeared with blood, which seemed to come from a wound in Dick's shoulder. But worse than the blood or even the bruises that covered Dick's chest and arms, Batman's son was struggling to breath. A chain was wrapped around Dick's throat and, standing in front of the young man was Deathstroke, holding one end of the chain. The killer wasn't wearing his mask, though Deathstroke was wearing the rest of his costume. He seemed so focus on murdering the man in front of him that he hadn't heard Batman enter the room.

Batman rushed at the killer. He slammed into the other man hard, which caused Deathstroke to lose his balance and fall. As he fell, Deathstroke released the chain. The chain, no longer held tight, loosened and Dick was able to breath.

"Batman," whispered the dark haired young man, as he slide down the wall, almost as if his legs couldn't hold him.

The Dark Knight stood in front of his son, but he never took his eyes off Deathstroke. Slowly, the killer stood and turned to face Batman. For a moment, neither man said anything. For Batman, anger had taken his voice. For Deathstroke, uncertainty had stolen his ability to speak, which was a rare emotion for the killer.

Batman trembled with his suppressed anger. He wanted to hurt, even kill, Deathstroke. He could hear Dick coughing and the sound only made Batman want to hurt the older man more. It was the only thing stopping Batman from going after Deathstroke. The Dark Knight was afraid that if he started, he wouldn't stop until the man was dead.

"Robin?"

Batman didn't turn to look at his son. Dick took another ragged breath as he struggled to get the words out.

"Is he...safe?"

Dick's voice was rough. The young man had barely finished speaking, before another cough fit racked his body.

"Yes," said Batman. The Dark Knight didn't understand the younger man's reason for asking, but understood it was important to Dick.

Deathstroke slowly moved toward the door, but Batman shifted his body. The older man knew, the moment he went for the door, Batman would be on him. But it didn't escape the killer's notice that, when Batman shifted, the Dark Knight's body no longer shielded Deathstroke from Dick. He looked down at the young man and a feeling similar to regret coursed through his body. Regret that he had been interrupted? Regret that the boy lived? Or, regret that the killer wouldn't have the young man as his apprentice? Deathstroke wasn't sure.

"Why should I let you live?"

Batman's question hung in the air.

…...

Dick looked up. Had he heard his father correctly? Did Batman just threaten to kill Deathstroke? Batman? The same man who had told Dick so often that it was the one line the Dark Knight would never cross? After everything Deathstroke had put Dick through, the hero had refused to break. After everything that Dick had suffered, he refused to let that killer break Batman. To make Batman cross the line that meant so much to the Dark Knight.

"No," whispered Dick. "Don't...sink to...his...level."

The young man struggled to get the words out. His throat hurt so badly and trying to force out the words only made it hurt worse. But he would suffer the pain, if it meant making sure Batman wouldn't become something he would hate.

For a moment, Batman turned his attention to his son and that was all Deathstroke needed. Quickly, the older man pulled a gun from his belt and pointed it at Batman. Batman's focus returned to Deathstroke. As soon as the killer knew he had the Dark Knight's attention, he shifted the barrel. Now the gun was pointed at Dick.

"Don't move, Batman," said Deathstroke.


	16. Chapter 15

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here is the conclusion!**_

Chapter 15

Batman was still angry, but now he was angry at himself. How could be have turned his attention away from Deathstroke? Even for a moment? Because that moment was all Deathstroke had needed. Now a gun was pointed at Dick.

"I will kill him," said the older man.

The gun never wavered. With how close everyone was standing, Batman wasn't even sure he would be able to throw himself in the way to take the bullet if Deathstroke did decide to fire the gun. Yet, Deathstroke wasn't close enough that Batman would attempt to go for the gun. Deathstroke would be able to pull the trigger before Batman would reach him.

"Before I leave, I have one question, Bruce," said the killer.

Batman's real name. It was a ploy on Deathstroke's part. He wanted to remind Batman that he knew the man under the mask. And by reminding the Dark Knight of his weakness, he also reminded Batman that he knew who Dick was. The killer reminded Batman that, maybe the hero had saved the young man today, but there was always tomorrow.

"How did you find us?" asked Deathstroke.

For a moment, it looked like Batman wouldn't answer. Deathstroke waited. Seconds ticked by, when finally Batman opened his mouth.

"You contacted the Justice League from the roof of this building."

Deathstroke nodded his head. He knew it could be a mistake to use this building when he decided to move to here, but there was also a thrill. Like the first location he held the younger man in, it had amused Deathstroke to use the building that he had used once before, when he had been trying to claim Robin as his apprentice. Next time, Deathstroke wouldn't make the same mistake.

"You win this time, Batman," said Deathstroke.

"You're not leaving," growled Batman.

"But I am," replied Deathstroke. "If you take one step toward me or try to interfere in my leaving in any way, I will kill Richard."

Batman clenched his hands into fists.

"Of course, you could always throw yourself on the sword, as it were, and take the bullet meant for Richard," continued Deathstroke. "In that case, I could leave you bleeding and take Richard with me. The only option you have, that doesn't end in one of you two taking a bullet, is to let me walk out of here."

With Dick in the room, Batman knew he had to give Deathstroke the illusion that he had won. If he allowed the killer to leave, then the Dark Knight knew could pursue Deathstroke. But, by giving him that much of a head start, Batman took the risk of Deathstroke escaping.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't finish this now, Richard," said the killer. Though the older man was speaking to Dick, Deathstroke never took his eyes from Batman. "I had hoped for more time."

Just as Deathstroke made to leave the room, an arrow shot across the room. Maybe it was the noise? Maybe Deathstroke saw movement? But rather than the arrow hitting Deathstroke's hand, it knocked the gun from his hand. The gun skidded across the room until it bumped against the wall. But eyes were no longer on the gun. All eyes looked at the hero who had shot the arrow.

"Asshole."

Standing in the doorway was Artemis. Rather than wearing her new black and orange costume of Tigress, she was wearing her old green costume. The young woman's blonde hair was pulled back and out of her face. The bow was in her hand. She was already loading another arrow onto her bow.

Deathstroke knew he had to escape. The killer rushed at the female hero. Though she had noticed Deathstroke running at her and had attempted to brace, it wasn't enough. The older man slammed into her, driving her into the door across the hall. The force was so great, the door gave way, and Artemis found herself in a small room with a computer. Shaking her head, she stood and looked for Deathstroke.

But the older man was already rushing down the hall. A black shadow exited the room across the hall and rushed down after the killer. It wasn't till she heard him speak that she realized it was Batman.

"Stay with him."

As much as she wanted to follow Batman and help him catch the killer, Artemis realized Dick needed her. She hadn't seen him well when she had first entered the room. She had noticed the blood and that Dick was on the floor, but she hadn't seen the full extent of his injuries. But even though she didn't know how badly he was hurt, she knew he was probably hurt bad enough that defending himself would be near to impossible.

Still, the urge to follow Batman stayed with her, until she glanced down at her bow. Instead of a useable weapon, she saw that the bow was broken. Snapped in the fall, Artemis now had no way to deploy her arrows. She toss the bow aside as she reentered the room across the hall.

Dick was still propped against the wall. He was breathing heavily. It was then that she took in how hurt the other hero was. Blood was everywhere. Smeared on Dick's chest and on the wall above Dick's head. Her friend's torso was covered in bruises. Some looked to be days old, while others looked new. But it was the bruising around the throat that bothered her the most.

"Artemis?"

Realizing that she had stopped in the door frame, Artemis entered the room and rushed toward Dick. Being careful to sit facing the door, so she wouldn't be caught off guard, in case Deathstroke returned for some reason, the blonde archer sat next to her friend.

"I'm here, Dick," she replied.

"How did...you know?" asked Dick. It was obvious that Dick was using the wall to hold himself up. Seated against the wall, it took all the hero's strength not to lie down on the floor.

"Robin told me," she replied. Figuring her lap would probably be more comfortable, she guided Dick into laying down with his head on her lap.

"But Deathstroke...he has Robin," said Dick, only to have the blonde interrupt.

"Stop talking, Dick." With some hesitation, she started to brush her fingers against Dick's temple. "Robin is safe. No one has him."

Dick nodded his head. He closed his eyes. If it meant Dick would stop talking, Artemis decided to continue with how she ended being in that room.

"Last night, Robin and Batgirl called Aqualad. Both told him that they needed time off from the team to take care of something that was happening in Gotham. I was present when they called. You know Kaldur. He's not as...nosey as I am."

Dick smiled. It was the first smile she had seen since she entered the room. Blinking back tears, Artemis continued.

"I stopped by the Manor earlier today and confronted Robin. He told me everything. I decided to do a little detective work myself and went back to all the location that...well, I was at the rooftop where...Deathstroke had first attacked you when I saw Batman swing across the street toward this building. Less to do with detective work than blind luck."

"In my...experience there is...no such thing...as luck," said Dick.

"Stop talking, Yoda." she replied.

"Obi-wan," he whispered.

"Shut up," said Artemis.

She laughed as a tear rolled down her face. She had lost the man she loved less than a month ago. Holding Dick, she realized she had almost lost her best friend too and it scared her. She didn't say another word to the dark haired hero. She just kept running her fingers over his temple. Dick's breathing slowed. Not in a dangerous way, but in the way that let Artemis know her friend was finally resting.

Minutes passed. Movement near the door made Artemis look up. Batman was standing in the door. He didn't need to say it. She could tell by the clenching of his jaw, but she decided to ask anyway.

"Deathstroke?"

"He got away," growled the Dark Knight.

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next? The epilogue and a little Daddybats :)**_


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

Dick was recovering at Wayne Manor. Bruce wouldn't even entertain the idea of Dick returning to his apartment.

"You have two broken ribs, one cracked rib, a healing stab wound, and a broken hand," Bruce had said.

Yes, Dick had been on his own in the past and healed from worse, but it wasn't just the injuries that caused Bruce to demand Dick to return to Wayne Manor. No one said anything, but one fact remained. Deathstroke had gotten away. The head start he had had on Batman had been enough for the mercenary to escape. Batman wasn't sure whether the killer would attempt to kidnap Dick again now, while Dick was still injured, but the older hero wasn't taking any chances. So, Dick had been moved back into his old room.

To say that the dark haired hero recovered in peace and quiet would be a lie. Every day, Dick had visitors. Barbara and Artemis stopped by the most. Dick wondered if they were checking with each other to make sure at least one of them stopped by every day. On the second day, Dick asked Artemis the question he had been wondering since he first saw the blonde archer enter the room where Dick had been tortured by Deathstroke.

"Did you forget to do laundry and had to go with the other costume?" asked Dick. His voice sounded better, but it still hurt if Dick did too much talking. "I mean, Tigress doesn't wear green."

"It just...seemed right," the blonde had answered. She hadn't looked at the dark haired hero when she answered. Before leaving, she had made mention of them going out to the diner sometime for french fries. The same diner that Wally and Dick used to frequent often when the red haired speedster had visited Dick in Gotham. Dick had agreed.

Dick had been spending a lot of time in bed, mostly due to the insistence from Alfred and Bruce. Even though the healing hero assured them that he would be just as comfortable sitting downstairs, the young man spent most of his time in his room.

It was the third night when Dick and Bruce finally spoke. It was not that Bruce had not spoken to Dick before that night, but the conversations had more to do with the younger man's injuries. It had been more Batman talking than Bruce. The older man was always careful about what he said or, more to the point, didn't say to Dick.

It had been in the middle of the night and Dick's bedroom door opened. Instantly, the hero's eyes had popped open and Dick had sat up. He immediately recognized the shadow in the door. Calmly, Dick reached over and turned on his bedside lamp. A small glow filled the room. When Dick turned to look back at the door, Bruce was still standing in the doorway.

"Come in," said Dick. His voice was, for once, rough with sleep, rather than the abuse that Deathstroke had inflicted.

Bruce didn't say anything as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. He walked to the end of the bed and stopped. The older man was wearing a white button shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and tucked into a pair of black dress pants. Dick shifted in his bed, propping the pillows behind his back so he could sit up. The younger man waited.

For some, the silence would have been uncomfortable. Dick knew that Bruce was using the time to organize his thoughts. Emotions were never easy for the older man. Expressing them were even harder.

"I wanted to kill him," said Bruce. His voice was unusually quiet.

"I know," replied Dick.

"Why did you stop me?" asked the older man. "It would be safer, for you, if he were dead."

"He wanted to hurt me. Break me," said Dick. The younger man stopped when he saw Bruce clench his hands into fists. He waited a moment then two. Finally Bruce relaxed his hands. "But he couldn't do it. He couldn't break me."

Dick took the edge of the blankets and threw them back. With a grimace, Dick sat up and swung his legs out from the covers. Dick had been wearing white and dark blue striped pajama bottoms with no shirt when he had gone to bed. Bandages wrapped around his ribs and his shoulder. When his feet touched the floor, Dick shifted his weight and stood up. Carefully, the younger man walked toward Bruce. He stopped when he was a foot from the older man.

"If you had done it, you would have eventually regretted it," said Dick. Brown eyes met blue eyes. "Bruce, you are the one you taught me that killing is never an option. If you have made an exception, it would have broken something inside you. And even though he would have been dead, Deathstroke would have still won."

"Dick, I..." said Bruce, but he stopped himself. For once, the older man looked down and couldn't meet the eyes of the younger man standing in front of him.

"I love you too, Bruce," said the younger man quietly.

The older man nodded. Without another word, he helped Dick back to his bed. Even though Dick was old enough to do it himself, Bruce tucked him back into bed. After he saw that Dick was settled, he turned off the lamp before leaving the room.

THE END

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: A BIG thank you to all my readers and the reviews. Hope you guys enjoyed the story. :)**_


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